Page 9 of When the Smoke Clears
“What did he say?” I ask in a whisper.
He stares at the glassy water. “That I’ll never be enough. Not unless I follow the path he chooses.”
His voice cracks—not a sound, but a feeling. And suddenly his heaviness makes sense in a way words can’t explain.
“Well, aren’t we a pair?” I say quietly. “Two broken teenagers on the same rotten dock.”
He gives me a ghost of a smile, green eyes glinting.
Without thinking, I shift closer until my shoulder brushes his. I expect him to pull back, but he doesn’t.
He leans—barely, imperceptibly—toward me, breath loosening, body uncoiling.
I’ve never been this girl—the one who reaches for a boy. But something about him pulls me in, lights a warmth in my belly I didn’t know I could feel.
We sit wrapped in charged silence—two kids carrying too much, orbiting each other for the first time.
He studies my face in the moonlight. “I’m glad you’re here.”
I gnaw on my lower lip. “Why?”
“I thought I wanted to be alone tonight. But sitting with you…isn’t so bad.” He nudges my sneaker. “And I’m glad you’re not alone either.”
We stay until the moon climbs high and our hurts soften just enough to breathe again.
When he stands, he hesitates. Then offers his hand.
I slide my fingers into his. He holds them warm and steady—like he’s afraid to squeeze too tight, but more scared to let go.
“I’ll walk you home,” he says.
“You don’t have to.”
“I know.” His thumb brushes my knuckles. “I want to.”
He walks so close that our arms nearly touch. My breath never fully settles.
On my porch, he pauses. “Tell me another weird history fact?”
A blush flares. “Romans used crushed mouse brains as toothpaste.”
His grin is instant—like I’ve gifted him something precious. “Meet me at the lake tomorrow night?”
My pulse stutters. “I’ll be here. Just…don’t leave me sitting alone.”
His lips ghost across my cheek—barely there, yet deep enough to brand me.
“Never,” he whispers.
The photo staring back at me shows two teenagers, rosy-cheeked and beaming on graduation day—drunk on dreams and each other.
Now, as I meet those green eyes frozen in time, I wonder if Luke ever chased his dreams. And if he could ever forgive me.
A pit settles in my stomach. The girl in that picture thought she had her life mapped out, Luke at her side. She knew nothing.
With a heavy sigh, I tuck the box away, then curl beneath my quilt.
It’s time.
